Boyn's head appeared around the corner of the barn as the four travelers walked calmly into his farmyard. "Jaina!" he shouted, happy for some unknown reason to see the two brave ones who had gone out to face the evil Vinzen back in his farmyard to reclaim their mounts, evidently as safe and sound as they were before. "They be back!"

"Hivven be thanked," Jaina's voice echoed the sentiment from within the house. Boyn wiped his hands on his faded trousers and then offered it to Jilan, who shook it firmly. He turned to the other man, frowning a little as he shook hands with Farran by. "Be I knowin' ye' from someplace?" the old man asked, searching his fading memory.

"Perhaps once, many years ago," Farranby nodded slowly. He reached into a medium-sized pouch that he wore on his belt and withdrew a thick sheaf of parchment. "I think this belongs to you. I've done what is necessary and right to see to it the island is yours again."

Boyn, with Jaina peeking over his shoulder in unbridled curiosity, read the first few lines of the document. With tears in his eyes, he looked back up again. "You know what this is?"

Farranby nodded again. "I'd wait a few days before you try to return, though. We'll need to have the authorities cleaning the place up before good folk can live there again."

Jilan stepped toward the barn. "If you don't mind, I'll get the ponies." When Boyn waved him on, still in shock from his good fortune and luck, the young aristocrat did as he had announced he would. Soon, four very healthy-looking and well-groomed mounts were being led from the depths of the barn.

Lyara eyed Surefoot and nodded in satisfaction. "You did well for our ponies. We're grateful."

Wiping her tears from her eyes to see clearly, Jaina pointed at the nearly empty provisions bag draped over Sharin's shoulder. "Lemme fill yer bag for ye'. An' grate ful is wha' me an' Boyn shu' be t'ye' all." She beckoned to Sharin. "Come in wi' me, girl. I be jus' makin' fresh bread. Ye' can have all ye' wan'." She beckoned again imperiously, and Sharin followed her into the house with a wry smile aimed at her companions.

"I remember now," Boyn snapped his fingers and pointed at Farranby. "Ye' be t' older brother o' that demon Vinzen. T' one Vinzen burned out an' killt t' good missus and girl." The old man's eyes narrowed. "I remember ye' was one o' them, an' not one. Ye' had a good heart, even then."

Farranby smiled. "I remember you too, Boyn. I remem ber I helped build you this place after my brother stole your island." He looked around the yard. "I wish I could have done more for you."

Farranby shuddered and shook his head emphatically. "I never want to see the place again for as long as I live."

He shook himself of the memories and smiled once more at the old man. "But, I found out that Vinzen didn't kill my little girl after all, and I've got to find her. Did you ever hear of a flesh merchant named Killien?"

"Aye, lad. Many years ago. 'E comed through 'ere once, got 'im a few kids t' trade from t' poorer men i' these parts an' 'eaded off fer the Vryies' country. I hear tell couple years back them savages down there done killt 'im." Boyn saw Farranby's face disintegrate into despair and instantly understood. "O sweet Hivven in 'is palace! Yer little 'un were solt to 'im?"

It took all four of the companions to finally convince the local authorities to investigate the claims that Vinzen was dead and his minions trapped in their barracks. The word went out quickly when the investigating team came back and verified the claim, and then the only course was to wait until the reinforcements to arrive to take the bandits away.

Farranby relented and did return to the island one last time. Together with his companions, he led the local au thorities and representatives of the King in Tandri to the docks, where Lyara ferried them across the sound to the island. They found the cottages outside the estate walls to be utterly deserted, leaving the trapped bandits still barred into their barracks. By the time the first prisoners were ready for Lyara to ferry them back across to the main land, there was a sizeable force of the King's soldiers encamped and waiting for them.

As usual, Lyara was at the rudder when it was Stepan's turn to be dragged into the little skiff with his other comrades and ferried to justice. His glare bothered her not a bit the entire trip, and his anger was fanned even hotter when she gleefully presented him to a rather burly soldier to be led away. But what finally made Stepan bellow in rage and struggle in earnest was when Lyara pointedly walked over to the young aristocrat and linked her arm with his. The soldier was obliged to cuff Stepan hard several times after that to keep him moving toward the hurriedly constructed cage.

Jilan looked down at the arm linked through his, and then at Lyara who still stared after Stepan in defiance. Her touch had startled him, for she had avoided touching him for days after their taking the island. How much that had to do with coming upon that man from her past he had no way of knowing, but he did know that she had pulled very much into herself since the scene in the barracks.

Actually, her preoccupation had given him the time to get used to the idea of the little voice that now spoke to him so clearly in the back of his mind and the music that echoed hauntingly in his head. Rolayn was the name that had announced itself often enough that Jilan knew it was what the entity in the flute called itself. As the days went by and he became accustomed to the voice and the occasional visions to explain things, Jilan finally came to appreciate and understand what Lyara had been going through. In many ways, he was looking forward to discussing it with her, but no opportunities had presented themselves until now.

"Lyara?"

"Hmmm?" She looked up into his face, her arm still linked with his.

"We need to talk. Are you going to be able to get away from that infernal boat for a while soon?"

Lyara blinked, finding her physical contact with Jilan also seemed to be opening a new channel of understanding with him. "Three more trips, Jilan, then the job will be done."

Jilan, too, was feeling the sensation of rapport. He could tell she was tired of the constant trips across the sound and would be glad to see them over. "Then we can talk. Alone."

Lyara glanced up at his tone, Topiara whispering in the back of her mind. Yes, it was time to talk and share. "That would be nice," she agreed evenly, feeling oddly at ease and comfortable with her hand tucked neatly into the crook of Jilan's arm -- as if it belonged there. She would have shot a chiding thought at her power stone but realized that the oblique idea was the truth. She blushed slightly and looked away again, as if afraid he would be able to read her thoughts in her eyes.

Jilan patted the fingers on his arm quickly then loos ened his grip on her hand, sensing the aura of comfort about his companion dissolving into confusion. "I'll go see what Sharin and Farranby are doing," he smiled warmly and turned away.

Lyara watched him melt into a group of King's men, feeling both a sense of loss as the distance grew between them and an anticipation of their next meeting. Topiara warmed on her breast conspiratorially and gave her the brief est glimpse of the two of them, revealing to Lyara her own expressions. "Stop it!" she whispered sharply, laying a hand firmly over the bulge beneath her tunic as if the touch would oblige the stone to follow her wishes. "Let me sort this out by myself this time. Please?"

This time, Topiara relented.

The sun sat almost gently on the western horizon, a warm and peaceful red and gold beacon heralding the ap proaching darkness. Lyara beached her little skiff instead of tying it up to the docks as before. Her employment as ferry mistress had been accomplished, and not one of Vinzen's men still remained on the island.

One by one, her eyes bounced from the silhouettes at one campfire to another, searching for those well-known shapes and gestures that were her friends and comrades. Finally, off to one side and removed from the rest, she saw an older man stand and stretch in Farranby's stiff manner; and she sighed deeply as she walked across the sand to join him. Halfway across the beach, she heard Jilan's "There she is, finally!" and knew she had chosen correctly.

Without a word, Sharin handed her one of the wooden trenchers provided by the King's men, loaded with savory-flavored fish and baked tubers. "Over here," Jilan urged, moving on the log so there would be room for her to sit next to him. Farranby said nothing as he whittled away absently at a piece of driftwood, ignoring his own trencher cooling at his feet.

Sharin retrieved her own trencher from next to the fire and returned to her seat on the other log next to Farranby and across the fire from the others. "She's here now. At least let's talk about it."

Lyara dropped the hot fish back onto the trencher and sucked in delight at a painful finger. "What now?" she demanded, her mouth full of food.

Jilan nudged her arm as he pointed at Farranby. "He says he's off to the Vryies country to look for his little girl. And he won't even hear of us coming along to help."

"What?!" Lyara gaped, then swallowed her food half-chewed.

"That's what we said," Sharin added, earning herself a silent glance from Farranby before he returned to his carv ing.

Lyara handed her food to Jilan and rose, crossed over and crouched in front of her friend, carefully moving his food out of the way so she could get closer. "Farranby? We want to help."

"I know." He neither looked at her nor at any of the others, but his voice was gentle and firm. "But you don't have to come just because we . . ."

"We're friends?" Lyara shook her head and put a hand on his knee. "That's not it and you know it."

Now Farranby did look at her. "I'm not sure I'll be able to find her. I have no right to ask you three to come on a trek that could last for the rest of my life."

Lyara glanced over at Jilan as Topiara warmed for a moment, and he nodded in silent agreement to what the power stones were telling them. "I don't think it will take that long, and neither does Jilan. Remember, he and I were able to find his little cousin Sidon without much trouble."

"That was different."

"Not really," Jilan disagreed from the opposite side of the campfire. "The Kauwlut homeland is easily as large as the Vryies country, and still we were able to find Sidon with surprising ease."

"So?" Farranby looked down at his whittling again.

"So what's to say we can't do the same thing again?" Lyara asked softly. "With us along, you might actually find her rather than spend your life looking in all the wrong places." She paused, weighing her next argument. "Besides, you know very well that with us along, you'd have extra help that nobody else could give."

Farranby looked up sharply and searched Lyara's face silently. Sharin, who had until then remained out of the discussion, sidled up to Farranby on the log. "You aren't asking us to go with you. To the contrary, you're doing your level best to talk us out of it. I can't speak for them," she pointed at Lyara and Jilan, "but I'd go with you anyway. You're the closest thing I have to family, and I'm not about to lose you too."

With a sideways glance at Sharin, Farranby sighed deeply and put an affectionate arm over the shoulder of the young woman next to him. "You know," he remarked with a wry smile, "with friends like you, maybe I can find Herista. I sure can't chase you away. I'm grateful to you all."

Lyara went back to her place on the log next to Jilan, reaching for her trencher again while shaking her head. "I wonder about you folks every once in a while, I tell you! The cloud-brained ideas you all get sometimes..."

"And you're immune to such imperfection, are you?" Jilan's question drew chuckles from the other log. "We all have our less-than-best moments, Lyara. You included."

She paused, the fish that was still achingly hot half way to her lips. "Me? Never!" She shook her head firmly and took a dainty bite of the flaking meat. "Ooooh Sharin! You've outdone yourself tonight!"

Farranby tossed aside the piece of whittling and reached for his own trencher that Lyara had set to one side but which he had ignored until now. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go back to the island one last time."

"In the name of all the gods, why?!" Jilan gaped.

"There's enough specie stored around the place to equip a small army, if you know where to look," Farranby said calmly, watching the faces illuminated by the flickering flames. "Vinzen has no further use for it, and there's no way it can possibly be returned to the proper owners. No use letting the King's men dig it all up when we could put it to better use."

"What about Boyn and Jaina?" Sharin asked quietly. "They deserve something for all the years they had to be away from their home."

"We can leave them some when we leave for the Vryies country," Farranby amended with a shrug. "There's more than enough for that, and you're right that they deserve better than they're getting for all the years of trouble. They are good people, taking care of our ponies for us."

"I suggest we all take a ten-day's worth of rest in Tandri before we set out," Lyara added tiredly. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired. We can take our time and get ready for the trip and rest up our ponies and ourselves. What specie we don't spend or need on the trip we can leave behind at a usurer's for our return."

"Then we go back to the island tomorrow?" Farranby asked, swallowing the last of his fish. "Are we agreed?"

"We're going back, one last time," Lyara answered with a sigh. "And I never thought I'd say it, but I'll be glad to never see that little skiff again."